Folly of Friendship
by Writerdragon
Summary: Seeing her sleeping there by his side, it had stirred those emotions again. It was innocent to her—just sleeping next to a friend. To him, it was something else. He wanted to touch her face, brush away that stray bang; kiss her. Semi-one-sided Dent/Iris.


**BAW. What is this?**

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><p><em>Folly of Friendship<em>

Her smile was radiant.

Her eyes were the colour of the soft earthy soil.

Her skin was the beautiful colour of milky Belgium chocolate.

She was beautiful; a gifted strong teenager with a joyful personality and uplifting spirits. Dent stood before his make-shift kitchen, looking out into space as he dried one of his white plates with a semi-dry towel. He rotated the plate around in the grip of the towel, not really paying any attention to the fact that it was really dry. His mind was out and about, thinking of her.

She was his friend. His good friend. The thought of her . . . The thought of having his arms around her slender frame . . . Touching that soft-looking skin of hers . . . Pressing his lips against hers lustfully. Dent closed his eyes, and let out a discontented sigh through his nostrils.

Yanappu glanced up at his Trainer, a plate in its large paws. The Pokémon cocked his head to the side, his slender tail twitched out of habit. "Yana," he said, letting one side of the plate go to nudge his Trainer.

Dent jumped slightly, snapping out of his daze. "What?" he breathed, snapping his head up, and then glanced over to his dear Pokémon.

"Yana? Yanna?" the green monkey breathed with a confused face.

Dent smiled softly, placing his plate to the side to pat the Pokémon on the head fondly. "Don't worry about me," he said with a brimming grin.

Yanappu, however, knew that there was something on his Trainer's mind. "Yanna," he said with a little defiance.

Dent frowned, and looked down. "It's hard to explain," he whispered, moving his hand to grab the plate from his Pokémon's paw.

"Yanna, yan," the monkey-like Pokémon breathed, as if to say: "Try me."

The green-haired teenager looked at his darling Pokémon from the corner of his eye as his hands dried the plate with his towel. "Well, it's Iris . . ." he breathed, licking his dry, chapped lips.

"Yanna . . .?"

"I really like her," Dent said, hanging his head, his hands shaking.

Yanappu blinked, looking right at his Trainer with calm affection. "Yanna, yan," he said, moving closer to his Trainer, careful not to fall off the make-shift table.

Dent reached up, placing his hand to his Pokémon's shoulder. "I don't know what to do," he said, looking up to the sunset-lit sky. "I like her. I really do. It's just that . . ." He frowned, looking down. "She's my friend. If I tell her that I like her, what if she doesn't like me in that way, and it'll ruin our succulent, beautiful friendship."

Yanappu frowned, his paws gripping Dent's arm with firm gentleness. "Yanna," the Pokémon breathed.

Dent looked to his Pokémon. "What should I do?" he whispered, his eyes desperate.

Yanappu did not know what to do. He wanted to help his Trainer badly. The monkey Pokémon looked away from his Trainer's anxious eyes, and then back at them, and shook its head, never breaking his gaze from his. Dent inhaled sharply, and sighed deeply.

"I thought as much," Dent whispered.

Yanappu frowned, hung his head, peeved that he could not help his dear Trainer. Dent glanced at his Pokémon, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his Pokémon's head, hoping to ease his fears.

"Yana," he breathed, blushing under his fur.

Dent smiled at his Pokémon, and returned to drying the plates. His mind still went back to her. She was a plague, but a good one, however still maddening all at once. He bit his lower lip, and closed his eyes, unsure of what to do with himself.

He was her friend. Even if she did like him in return and even if they did proceed with a romantic relationship, what if something would happen? Many times he had heard the unfortunate fates of friends that became lovers; their love would end and they would not be able to remain friends. The horror of it all! If he were to court her into his arms, then something terrible would happen, and they would break apart, and lose what they had.

Dent could feel his heart break in his chest.

"Dent?"

The boy whipped around, his eyes wide, and pressed the plate to his chest. "What? What?" he called, glancing at the very object of his desire.

Iris looked at him, arching a thin eyebrow to him. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly. "You look distant." Her Kibago popped from her thick mane of hair, staring at the boy with an innocent expression.

Dent stared at her still, and then his eyes flickered over to his own Pokémon, who stared at him with an equally confused look on his green and tan face. The green-haired teenager then looked right back at her, and he quickly forced a wide smile on his lips.

"Just lost in my thoughts," he said, waving his hand down in a dismissive gesture. "Nothing more."

"Yana," Yanappu breathed, shaking his head.

Dent's hand came up to gently grip his Pokémon's head still. Iris continued to watch, and then placed her hands to her hips. "Dent, are you sure?" she asked. "If you want to get something off your mind, you can tell me."

He twitched, looking at her. Dent then sighed deeply, and looked at her with a kind expression. "That means a lot to me," he said. "But there's nothing wrong. I am fine. Just a lot of . . . _personal_ matters on my mind."

Iris beamed playfully. "Well, if you need anything, you can just tell me!" she said, pointing right at her face.

_I need you._

Dent smiled in his calm and happy façade, his eyes softened greatly. "Thank you, Iris," he breathed.

She nodded her head, turning to leave to search for "the child." He watched her go, and his heart sunk further into his chest. He shook his head, returning to dry the rest of the dishes, listening to the rustling of the foliage in the background. His mind wandered back to those pleasant daydreams: holding her hand, touching her soft skin and hair, kissing her as the sun set behind them.

Dent sighed, shaking his head.

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><p>"Satoshi, do we have any firewood?"<p>

"Right here," Satoshi answered, throwing a few scraps of dead branches.

"That's it?" Iris asked, arching her thin eyebrow to him. "We need some more."

"Naw, I don't think so," Satoshi said, Pikachu shifting in his lap as he held him close to his chest. "It'll keep us warm."

Iris frowned, and then shook her head. "You better be right," she said, reaching down to smooth out her sleeping bag. Kibago sat in her lap, nuzzling gently and fondly against her flat breast. Iris smiled, and gripped her Pokémon, moving down to snuggle into the warmth of her sleeping bag. She rotated her head around, noticing Dent, who was sitting upright, however his upper torso slumped forward; his face contorted in deep thought as his hands were wrung in his lap, which was covered by the thick cloth of his sleeping bag. She looked at him, concerned and confused.

"Dent?" she called.

The green-haired teenage male jolted, and turned to look at her. "What?" he called.

Iris frowned. "You're extra jumpy today, en't ya?" she inquired. "Is something wrong? I told you that you can talk to me if you need to."

Dent smiled, yet his brows were furrowed in his nervousness. "I told you I'm fine, Iris," he said. "There's no need to worry."

She stared at him intensely, and Dent remained as still as a statue. He knew that she was analyzing him. Her rich brown eyes traced his body, noticing that he was tense, and then it went back up to his face, paying strict attention to the details she saw. Kibago shifted in her lap, also staring at the boy.

"Dent, are you sure?" Iris asked, her voice a little softer than before.

Satoshi leaned forward, trying to understand what was going on. Dent felt like he was in the spotlight. He could feel his hands become clammy and damp. He then sighed, a façade of a calm smile looming on his lips.

"Iris, I told you that I am fine," he said. "I'm just in deep thought. Although it is nice to know that you're worried for me." He reached up, and smoothed out his hair, still smiling at her.

Iris looked him over, and then nodded in half-belief. "Okay," she breathed. "But remember what I told you: you can talk to me."

Dent looked at her, a gentle and kind smile on his thin lips. "And, again, thank you, Iris," he said. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." His tone was rather fatherly.

"Alright, dad," Iris teased, pulling her Pokémon close to her chest as she laid down on her sleeping back. "Goodnight, Dent. Goodnight, Satoshi and Pikachu."

"Goodnight, everyone," Satoshi said, snuggling up next to Pikachu as he lain down in his sleeping bag.

"Goodnight, friends," Dent said, shifting in his warm sleeping bag. When his back was turned to Iris, he frowned, pushing himself into his plush and warm sleeping bag. His hand rubbed against the fabric of the bag, his mind wandering yet again.

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><p>Dent speculated that it had to be midnight, and he was awake. He could not sleep. Each and every time he tried, he woke up and stare out into the vast universe. He could hear Iris' snoring along with Satoshi's. He turned his head, staring at the only female of the group. Seeing her sleeping there by his side, it had stirred those emotions again. It was innocent to her—just sleeping next to a friend. To him, it was something else. He wanted to touch her face, brush away that stray bang; kiss her.<p>

He looked at her, and a shiver ran down his spine. Dent turned on his side, and continued to watch her sleep. She looked beautiful as she slept. The boy continued to stare at her. He pulled out his hand from the warmth of the sleeping bag, and paused, wondering what he was doing, wondering if he should do what his heart wanted. His rational mind told him "no," but his aching heart told him "yes." He continued, reaching out to stroke her face. Her skin was as soft as he had imagined it; it was like touching fine and expensive silk. Dent's hand trembled as he continued to stroke her face and hair.

He liked it. He liked what he was doing. Dent moved closer to her, staring down at her, his hand cupping her cheek. The boy was being careful not to wake her or Kibago. He continued to stroke her hair and cheek. Dent knew that he shouldn't be doing this, but he wanted to. He was giving into his wants and desires—his bleeding pulp of a heart was drinking in every touch that he gave her. His fingertips were feather-light as they traced her skin, pushing a few strands of dark purple hair as he did so. He was being so careful not to wake her. He could not imagine what would happen if she were to awake. It would be dreadful. He would lose her. Such a fate was unimaginable.

He hissed softly under his breath, yanking his hand back, placing it right over his throbbing heart. The green-haired boy turned away, his eyes winced closed. He turned back up to look at her with open and fearful emerald eyes. Iris' face was still in her sleeping bag, her Kibago nuzzling into her flat breast. She looked so pretty there—the way the full moon's rays outlined her gentle face . . . Dent inhaled sharply as he moved in to kiss her brow, feeding his hunger to kiss her.

"What the—?"

Dent jolted; pushed back, glancing over Iris' still body and stared with utter horror at Satoshi, who looked as if he had just awoken. He looked confused and a little disturbed. He sat up, careful not to awake Pikachu.

"W-what were you doing?" Satoshi asked warily, his eyes looking over the other boy.

Dent was still, his eyes still wide, his jaw slack. "I-I-I," he stammered, unable to find the words that he needed. He sharply swallowed. "It wasn't what you think."

"Then . . . what was it?" Satoshi inquired.

Dent frowned, and pulled himself out of his sleeping bag, looking at Iris before approaching Satoshi. "I, what I mean is," he whispered, crouching before the befuddled Satoshi. His hand slapped to his face, and he bowed his head; his shoulders slumping. "I like her, Satoshi, I like her a lot."

Satoshi looked at Dent, his mouth clamped closed. He did? He liked Iris? Why had he not noticed this before?

"I like her so much—no, I think I love her," Dent whispered, his eyes peaking through parted fingers. "I don't know what to do. I'm afraid that I will ruin our relationship. I want to be her friend, but I also want to be more. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."

Satoshi did not know what to say, but all he knew was that he had to comfort his friend in some way. He merely clasped his hand to Dent's trembling shoulder.

"I don't know what to say . . ." Satoshi breathed truthfully. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Dent was silent, his head cradled in his hands. And behind the green-haired teenager, Iris had awoken not too long ago, and she had heard _everything_. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pressed tightly together, and her brows furrowed. She remained silent, but she was obviously stunned.

Dent . . . He loved her.

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><p><strong>Maybe I'll do a sequel. Maybe I won't, lulz.<strong>

**Maybe I should just torment you guys.**


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